What started as an exciting summer adventure for young Michael Stewart ended in tragedy. This incident has raised serious concerns about the camp’s safety measures and has led to a full investigation.
On Monday, at Liberty Lake Day Camp in Burlington County, New Jersey, six-year-old Michael Jeffrey Stewart drowned on his very first day of camp. This heartbreaking news has left Michael’s family in deep grief and has shocked the whole community.
Michael’s mother, Enjoli Stewart, shared her deep sadness and frustration with the camp. “Liberty Lakes messed up. Big time. And now I don’t have a son anymore. That’s heartbreaking,” she told FOX 29.
Michael had been looking forward to his first day at the camp, not knowing it would be his last. He was set to attend the camp for several weeks, and Enjoli had spent thousands of dollars to ensure he had the best experience. She said:
“I did everything I could to make sure he was placed in the right school and the right camp.”
The incident happened during the afternoon swim period for campers who were entering first and second grades.
Camp officials reported that a lifeguard found Michael unresponsive in a shallow pool. The lifeguard quickly pulled him out of the water and tried to perform CPR.
Despite the attempts to save him, Michael was pronounced dead at a local hospital later that day.
Michael’s life was a fight from the beginning. Born as a micro-preemie at just 23 weeks and weighing only one pound and three ounces, doctors had not expected him to survive.
Despite the odds, Michael defied expectations with his mother’s relentless advocacy and unwavering faith. He grew into a bright, loving, and caring boy whose resilience and passion for learning won the hearts of everyone who knew him.
“Michael taught me how to fight and he taught me to fight without using my hands,” Enjoli said. “He taught me how to fight in a different manner.”
Michael was especially close to his younger sister, Layla. They enjoyed playing basketball and baseball together. Enjoli described her son as “extremely smart,” with an impressive vocabulary.
Enjoli described Michael as a curious child who loved learning new things. He was excited about starting piano classes, which were next on his summer to-do list.
Liberty Lake Day Camp, which had just opened for the summer on the day of the incident, expressed their sorrow in a statement.
Camp founder Andy Pritikin wrote, “All of us at Liberty Lake Day Camp are devastated and grieving over the tragic passing of our young camper. This senseless tragedy took a life that was far too young. There are no words that feel appropriate enough to capture our heartache and mourning.”
Michael’s mother was talking to a coworker about her son’s excitement for the camp when she received the heartbreaking news.
“Someone asked me how my day was going, and I told them about Michael and how he fell asleep the night before with his goggles on,” she said. “He was so excited about swimming, and then my phone rang. I was told I needed to rush to Mount Holly-Virtua.”
The Burlington County Prosecutor’s Office and Mansfield Township police are investigating the incident. An autopsy was conducted on Tuesday by the Burlington County medical examiner.
Enjoli has raised concerns about the camp’s safety protocols. She noted that Michael, a beginner swimmer, was supposed to be in an instructional swim class, but it did not take place.
She also pointed out that Michael was assigned a one-on-one aide who was meant to be with him at all times. However, that aide is still employed at the camp.
Pritikin acknowledged that typically, staff members do not conduct instructional swim classes on the first day of camp.
The camp employs 25 lifeguards certified in first aid, CPR, and the use of AEDs, as well as three registered nurses.
Despite these measures, Enjoli believes more should have been done to prevent her son’s death. She suggested that, out of respect for her family, the camp should have closed the pool for 24 to 48 hours following the incident.
However, Pritikin stated that experts advised continuing camp activities, emphasizing that the safety and well-being of campers and staff are their top priorities.
Michael was a rising first-grade student in the Lumberton School District. The district released a statement expressing their deepest condolences to the Stewart family.
In support of the family, a lemonade stand fundraiser will be held at the Old Fire House on Main Street in Lumberton on Saturday. This event is especially meaningful because Michael loved making lemonade and hosting lemonade stands in his neighborhood.
Additionally, a GoFundMe campaign has been set up to help the Stewart family with funeral and memorial expenses. The campaign highlights Michael’s remarkable journey, from his premature birth to his joyful life.
Michael was a rising first-grade student in the Lumberton School District. The district released a statement offering their deepest condolences to the Stewart family.
To support the family, a lemonade stand fundraiser will be held at the Old Fire House on Main Street in Lumberton on Saturday. This event is especially meaningful because Michael loved making lemonade and hosting lemonade stands in his neighborhood.
Additionally, a GoFundMe campaign has been set up to help the Stewart family with funeral and memorial expenses. The campaign highlights Michael’s remarkable journey from his premature birth to his joyful life.
The campaign organizer shared how doctors initially gave Michael little chance of survival. “Michael’s mother refused to believe that, and with every ounce of her strength, advocacy, and faith, fought for his life,” the campaign states.
Seeing Michael grow into a wonderful little boy filled Enjoli’s heart with joy. Unfortunately, that joy was cut short. Michael is remembered for his kindness and his heart of gold.
Not only was Michael a loving presence for his mother and younger sister, but he also touched the lives of everyone around him.
“The family is in need of a lot of support at this time, as you can imagine,” the GoFundMe campaign states. “We are asking for your help in raising money for Michael Jeffrey and his family so that he can be given the funeral and memorial services that he deserves to honor his life. Anything you can give to the family is much appreciated.”
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The update also mentioned another GoFundMe campaign started by Lumberton Township in response to the tragedy.
The Stewart family expressed their gratitude for this additional support and encouraged people to contribute to any of the fundraising campaigns.
In response to the incident, Liberty Lake Day Camp has made its clinical social worker available for counseling to those affected. The camp has also pledged to continue its summer program with a heightened emphasis on safety measures.
Living Across from a Cemetery, I Saw a Baby Left by One of the Graves on Halloween Night
Now, those days were long gone, but I still cherished the traditions. Each year, I decorated my house with cobwebs, pumpkins, and spooky lights, and waited for the neighborhood kids to come trick-or-treating. It brought a little light into my otherwise quiet life.
Just two years ago, I had walked the same streets with my daughter, holding her tiny hand as we went door to door. It feels like a distant dream now, a beautiful memory that slipped away too soon. Losing her shattered me, and it broke my marriage with John as well. We couldn’t find a way to heal, and we drifted apart under the weight of our grief.
That night, after handing out candy for hours, I realized my bowl was empty. With a sigh, I hung a “No More Treats” sign on the door. A familiar ache settled in my chest—the kind that never fully goes away.
My house stood directly across from a cemetery, a place that unnerved most people. It didn’t bother me. The rent was cheap, and I’d never been one to believe in ghosts. I made myself a cup of cocoa and sat by the window, half-expecting to see some teenagers playing pranks among the gravestones.
But what I saw instead made my heart skip a beat. Near one of the graves was what looked like a baby car seat. I blinked, thinking it was a trick of the light, but the shape didn’t waver.
I grabbed my coat and hurried outside, the chilly October air biting at my skin. The cemetery was eerily still as I walked closer to the grave, every step filled with dread. When I finally reached it, my breath caught in my throat. There, in the car seat, was a tiny baby, fast asleep.
“Oh my God,” I whispered, kneeling down to pick her up. She was so small, completely unaware of the cold night air around her. “How did you get here?” I asked softly, knowing there would be no answer. I held her close and rushed back to the house.
Once inside, I laid her gently on the couch and noticed a note taped to her car seat. With trembling hands, I unfolded it. The note read, “Amanda, one and a half years old.”
That was all. No phone number, no explanation. Just a name. I searched the car seat for more information, but there was nothing. I looked down at Amanda, who stirred slightly, and felt my heart twist. What was I going to do with her?
Without thinking, I called the police. They listened as I explained the situation, but when they told me there were no reports of a missing child, frustration bubbled inside me. Still, they asked me to bring her in.
At the station, Amanda sat quietly in her car seat, her wide eyes gazing up at me as though she already trusted me. When the officers said she’d be placed in the care of social services, a sudden surge of protectiveness washed over me.
“Can she stay with me, at least for now?” I asked, my voice steady though my heart raced.
After hours of paperwork and background checks, they agreed. Amanda was coming home with me.
The days that followed were a blur of bottles, diapers, and sleepless nights. It had been so long since I’d taken care of a little one, but it all came back to me piece by piece. Every morning, I bought her toys, read her stories, and watched as her giggles filled the quiet spaces of my house. She became the light I didn’t know I needed.
It wasn’t always easy—some nights, her cries were impossible to soothe. But even in those difficult moments, I found joy. Amanda had filled the void in my heart, a place that had been empty for so long. The more time we spent together, the more attached I became.
One morning, as I fed Amanda breakfast, there was a knock at the door. I opened it to find a police officer standing with an elderly woman by his side.
“Jessica,” the officer said gently. “This is Amanda’s grandmother, Carol. She’s here to take her back.”
My heart sank. Amanda had become so much a part of me that the thought of letting her go felt unbearable. But Carol was her family. I had no right to keep her.
Carol stepped forward, smiling warmly. “Hello, sweetie,” she said, reaching for Amanda. Every instinct in me screamed to hold on, but I slowly handed her over.
The moment Amanda left my arms, she started to cry. Her little hands reached for me, and it was like a dagger to my heart. Tears stung my eyes as I watched her go, but I knew I had no choice.
Before leaving, Carol handed me a basket and thanked me for taking care of Amanda. As soon as they were gone, I collapsed on the couch, tears flowing freely. It felt like I had lost my daughter all over again.
Later that night, I stared at the basket, too heartbroken to eat. Something nagged at me, though. I picked up the thank-you note Carol had left and read it again. The handwriting looked familiar.
My heart raced as I ran to my room and grabbed the note that had been left with Amanda’s car seat. Holding the two side by side, a chill ran down my spine. The handwriting was the same. Carol had abandoned Amanda at the cemetery.
Without hesitation, I grabbed my phone and dialed a number I hadn’t called in a long time.
“John, hi,” I said, my voice shaking.
“Jess?” he sounded surprised. “Is everything okay?”
“No,” I admitted, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on me. “I need your help.”
“I’ll be right there,” he said, his voice firm.
John arrived in under twenty minutes. I told him everything—about Amanda, the cemetery, and Carol’s deception. He listened quietly, and when I finished, he asked the question I’d been dreading.
“What do you want to do?”
“I want to take her back,” I said, my voice strong with conviction. “Amanda belongs with me.”
John nodded, and from that moment, we worked together. It was a long battle—endless meetings with lawyers and tense confrontations with Carol—but we didn’t give up. Weeks later, we stood in court, ready to fight for Amanda’s future.
Carol broke down on the stand, admitting that she had left Amanda at the cemetery because she could no longer care for her. The court revoked her custody, and I was granted temporary guardianship—with the possibility of adoption.
As I walked out of the courthouse, Amanda resting peacefully in my arms, I couldn’t stop smiling. She was mine, and I would do everything in my power to keep her safe and loved.
John walked beside us, his expression calm but content. “You’re going to be an amazing mom to her,” he said softly.
I smiled at him, my heart full of gratitude. “Thank you, John. I couldn’t have done this without you.”
As we walked away from the courthouse, I felt a renewed sense of hope. Halloween had always been special to me, but now it meant something even greater—it brought Amanda into my life.
And perhaps, just maybe, it was bringing John back into it, too.
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